Of Wings and Touch
by AnnieAnnProps
Summary: After the collapse of Overwatch, Lena finds herself stranded in Cairo, Egypt where Fareeha graciously invites her to stay with her. Domestic life of Pharah and Tracer, mostly fluff with some smut (tagged in chapters). Overwatch is still a thing, loosely set in the universe of 'At the Seams'. We'll see where this goes.
1. Here We Go

And just like that, it is gone. Torn apart by corruption within, or maybe the changing times, either way, Overwatch is nothing more now. The suddenness of its disbandment has left its agents scattered across the globe, cut off from the organization that once gave them all a purpose.

Lena frantically paces the floor of her room, hair gripped tight in her hands. 24 hours to vacate the Cairo watchpoint or force will be used. A day to pack up her life, make peace with the people she fought with and killed for. Hours to say goodbye to her dreams.

The call comes, her phone on the desk buzzing loudly against the metal surface. She flinches at the harsh sound; most calls came through the communicator in her ear. Only times she ever touched her phone was for a quick cloudsearch or to order takeout.

A string of unrecognizable numbers is in place of the caller ID flashes across the screen when she checks it. Lena has half the mind to just let it ring out, her hands are shaking too much, there is so much left to do.

But she doesn't, for some odd reason, her finger moves to press the answer button and bring the device to her ear.

"'Ello, this is Oxton."

"Tracer. Lena, I heard the news. It is a tragedy what happened at the Swiss Base."

Lena's brows furrow together.

"Fareeha? How'd you- you know what, it don't matter." She sits down on the edge of her cot, her back landing heavily onto the mattress as she stares up at the ceiling. Her mind is too scattered to really care anything right now. "Yeah, it's pretty shite. They ain't even got the money to send us all back to where we came from."

Ah yes, stranded, the very important detail she's been trying to ignore all this time.

"If you need a place to stay, I wanted to offer you my spare bedroom until you are able to get back on your feet. You have already done so much for me."

"Really? That'd be brilliant, if you don't mind of course. I shouldn't be staying too long, everything's just nutters is all. 'Course I'll help around the flat, wash the dishes, feed the cat-"

"I don't own a cat."

"We could get a cat?"

There is a chuckle over the line that makes Lena's heart flutter. They were friends, yeah? Helping each other out in their times of need. But when did she grab her pillow and start hugging it against her chest?

"We will see. Don't worry about it, I will come by the watchpoint 6pm tonight to pick you up then?"

"Sounds good. Cheers love."

"I will see you soon, Lena."

Lena finishes packing with a smile that she keeps long after the ache in her cheeks sets in.


	2. Morning

It's a blessing that the two of them are early risers.

Fareeha beats her to the kitchen on most mornings, a cup of strong black tea set on the table waiting for Lena when she bounces out of the bathroom. But this Sunday morning, Fareeha awakes to the sound of a sharp knocking on her bedroom door.

Her eyes shoot open. Sunlight, there is sunlight peeking out from the corners of her tightly drawn blinds and she's still under the covers. The nightstand is empty of it's usual phone that would've been her failsafe if the morning sun didn't wake her. But she always left the curtains open and always left her phone next to her.

Had someone come in and-

"Morning love!"

The door opens and Fareeha manages to sit herself up in time to see Lena shoulder her way in with a tray of food in her hands. She is speechless as the meal is placed on the bed; 2 omelettes, fresh tomatoes, two bowls of beans and two steaming cups of their favorite beverages. The mild irritation she felt earlier of having her things tampered with quickly melts away at the gesture.

"Thought I'd surprise you, yeah."

Lena's smile is nervous, fearful that Fareeha would be mad that she had snuck into her room in the night to set up the perfect opportunity to make her breakfast in bed. But a small smile and chuckle from the soldier has her sighing in relief.

"And surprise me you did." Fareeha shifts to the side to make room for Lena to take the spot next to her.

They steal glances at each other between mouthfuls of food. Half smiles with bad puns, a skittering warmth when their fingers 'accidently' graze against each other. They sit shoulder to shoulder in comfortable chatter of their daily lives when it's all done.

A pocket of gentle.

Because there isn't something there; not quite yet, still 'just friends'. But from underneath the warm covers, their legs brush and neither of them feel the need to pull away.


	3. Sweater

Oh bloody fucking hell.

Fareeha's going to kill her, she's going to make her pack her bags and chuck her out onto the street. Stupid, stupid, stupid, how could she overlook it?

Lena collapses onto the bed, head in her hands as she stares at the piece of fabric on sheets. A deep navy, wool argyle sweater that looked quite dashing on Fareeha when they had gone to the theater last week. Soft to the touch and fitted enough to tastefully show off the hard-earned muscles of the woman. Her favorite sweater, one of the few that her mother had gifted her that she actually liked.

Except now, it had shrunken down two sizes, looking more like a kid sweater than the one Fareeha was so fond of.

"Bloody fuck, mate." Lena curses herself once more, forgetting the rest of the freshly dried clothes on the bed in favor of figuring out just what to do with the ruined sweater.

She could get rid of the evidence, chuck the blasted thing and blame it on the laundry machine. The thing ate socks every week, who's to doubt its capability to consume an entire sweater?

The sound of the front door opening sends Lena into a panic. Her hands dart out, bundling up the thing and stuffing it under the pile of clothes waiting to be folded. Not a moment too soon, Fareeha steps through the open door with a smile on her face.

"You did the laundry. Thank you." She says, unbuttoning her uniform and slipping into her home clothes as Lena glances between the clothes and Fareeha.

"Uh, yeah, didn't have any tours today so thought I'd do some errands, y'know."

Fareeha's definitely picking up on the bullets Lena is sweating. No doubt about it, she's red in the face, stammering to hell, and avoiding all eye contact. Good lord, if Fareeha didn't suspect anything then Lena seriously doubted her ability as a security chief.

"Let me help you fold them."

"No, no!" Lena shoves her palms into Fareeha's ribs, the only things that are shoulder height to Lena, and pushes her away from the bed. "Ahhh, today was hot, wasn't it, why don't you take a shower first and I'll have these done when you come back out, yeah?"

Fareeha raises an eyebrow. Yes, it was abnormally hot and Lena was stuck in the apartment all day, perhaps that was why she was acting so strange. Or…

"Are you trying to surprise me with something again?" She stands her ground, halting all chances Lena had with moving Fareeha any further.

Retracting her arms, Lena rubs the back of her neck and chuckles nervously.

"Yeah, yeah. And don't even ask cause I ain't telling you early!"

Fareeha stares at her for a moment. Lena was an odd one, but this seemed a bit much for the Brit. Nonetheless, she decides to humour her by playing along.

"Alright then. Since you so graciously offered, I will shower and absolutely not think about what you have in store for me." She waits for Lena to break, knowing the woman was never good at keeping secrets. Instead, Lena's cheeks puff up indignantly before she sputters out a retort.

"Good, cause you'll never guess it. It'll be so brilliant."

She watches as Fareeha grins and shakes her head and a clean set of clothes in tow, she is on her way towards the bathroom. It isn't until the door closes and the water is turns on does Lena crumple to the floor with her mouth agape in a silent scream.

She just fucking dug herself deeper into this cesspit of a hole.

How oh how was she going to tell Fareeha now?

Like awaiting death, Lena can do little more but sit on the floor staring at the bed. The minutes tick by, her execution drawing closer. She should just get up and start packing right now. Out of options, leave a note, tell Lucio she loves him, skip town before-

The water shuts off and Lena wants to bolt out of the apartment.

"Hey Lena, can you grab me a towel, you forgot to replace the ones that you washed."

Another cock up. Lena lets out a sigh and numbly retrieves one of the closet as well as digging the small sweater out from the pile. If anything, Fareeha couldn't chase her out of the apartment naked, the woman was far too modest to do such a thing. So theoretically, this was the perfect time to confess.

"Got it here, love." Lena knocks on the door, waiting for the door to crack open so she could slip it through.

Instead, the door swings wide, steam and light pouring out. Lena barely has time let out a surprised squeak and advert her eyes. Her cheeks soon mirror the heat pouring out of the the bathroom. They were roommates, odd ones to say the least. As much as Lena wanted more, it never felt right to push the subject. But this was definitely not normal roommate procedure.

"The fan won't turn on again, remind me to call maintenance later." Fareeha mumbles, taking the towel to wipe off the water still clinging to her skin before it passed the threshold of 'pleasant' and into 'irritating'.

There is a pause and Fareeha realizes what Lena is holding in her hands.

"Is that my sweater?" The question is asked without suspicious, just curiosity and amused disbelief.

"Yeah, I was folding it and, uh, forgot to-"

"Give it to me, it looks different."

Lena doesn't even try to think of an excuse, it's too late now, Fareeha can already tell that the thing is far too small to be normal. She hands it over, head hung low and waiting for Fareeha reaction.

She wraps the towel under her arms, using her now free hands to take the top from Lena's grasp. Unfurling it, Fareeha is finally greeted by it's drastically reduced size.

"It's...tiny."

"Uuuh Surprise?"

Fareeha lowers the sweater enough to peer incredulously at Lena. Her eyebrow cocked, the corner of her lip twitching. Here it comes. A beat and Fareeha's eyebrows draw up and she bursts out laughing louder than Lena had ever hear her laugh before.

She's...laughing?

"You're not mad?" Lena blinks wide eyed, actually slightly concerned with how Fareeha is now bent over and leaning on the doorframe for support.

"No, no. Your face however." She glances up at Lena, doing her best to keep a straight face before another fit a chuckles escape from her hard pressed lips. Eventually, she gets it under control, flipping the sweater around in her grasp.

"I am a little upset but I have plenty more sweaters and besides." Fareeha steps forward, shifting the sweater in her hands and pulling it over Lena's head. With a few tugs and a little finagling, Lena's arms slip through the holes and the bottom hem is smoothed over her waist. "Now, it's just your size, habibti"

Suddenly, Fareeha stiffens as if a steel rod had just been shoved up her spine. She covers her face with a hand and quickly retreats back into the bathroom without another word. Lena has half a mind to ask what the hell just happened but she isn't about to push her luck.

She has no idea what 'habibti' means, but looking into the bedroom mirror, she can't deny how good she looks in her new sweater.


	4. Dinner?

Heading home right now and gonna pick up dinner, how you feel about Mexican?

Don't, I am cooking. It is my turn to surprise you.

Lena squints at her phone, rereading the text five times before setting the device down. Some deep pockets wanted to see the lights of Cairo at night and was willing to shell out big bucks for a private aerial tour at such a late hour. It was about 8pm when they touched back down and business was finished up.

Ooo, can't wait.

The entire drive back to the apartment has Lena singing along to the radio and tapping her fingers on the wheel. It wasn't often Fareeha had the time to make a home cooked meal, but on the occasions she did, it was never a disappointment. Except that one time she didn't realize how low of a tolerance Lena had for peppers.

She parks the car, bounces up the stairs, and the zipper on her jacket is already halfway down by the time she shoulders the door open. The smell is immediate; heavy with spices and garlic. She turns the corner to see the table already set up with a candle lit in the center.

Lena's heart skips a beat. This is far fancier than any of the times they've cooked for one another with matching plates, Lena's favorite brew on the table, a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. If she had to guess, it looked like a scene straight out of a romance film.

Wait

And then Fareeha steps out from the kitchen in a simple button-up and slacks. Her warm smile threatens to turn Lena's legs into jelly. This isn't happening, this sort of thing doesn't happen in real life.

"Lena, would you like to go out tonight?"

Oh buddy

A million things are racing through her head. Most along the lines of 'Bloody hell that shirt looks brilliant on her' and 'Oh fuck, I'm blushing, I'm blushing aren't I? Fuck, fuck, fuck-'

Go out? Yeah she'd like to step out right now to escape the heat that had made a home in her cheeks.

"I, uh, fuck. Yeah." She stares at the ground and finishes removing her shoes. Under her breath, Lena mutters to herself about how bloody smooth the the woman is.

But when she looks back up, she can see the nervousness in Fareeha's eyes, how it's obvious her hands are clenched into fists in her pants pockets. It's new territory for the both of them and that thought somehow makes Lena feel a little bit better; a touch of her confidence returning from the initial surprise.

If Fareeha could be so gosh darn cute, then so could she.

"You look great, love." In a moment of boldness, Lena reaches up on her tiptoes and kisses Fareeha on the cheek. It's hard to see, but there is the tiny hint of a blush on her tanned cheeks and Lena is once again grinning like a cocky bastard.

It isn't until they sit down and Lena sees the lentils on their plates are arranged into the shape of a heart. She tries to keep a straight face, doesn't try very hard before she bursts out laughing, quickly poking fun at Fareeha's antics. For a hardened soldier, Lena can't believe what an absolute dork the woman could be.

It feels like little has changed. They still eat and talk, joke and laugh, make terrible puns, and talk about their day. Except now, their feet occasionally play with each other under the small dining table. When they catch each other staring, they smile instead of dart away. The warmth that the alcohol brings does not compare to the warmth of a smile.

They're placing the dishes into the washer when Lena decides to be a bit cheeky herself.

"Hey love, want something sweet for dessert?" She bounds to Fareeha's side, waiting for her to shut the door of the appliance.

"Sure?" Before Fareeha can straighten up all the way, Lena catches her face at just the right height and places a kiss on her lips.

For a moment, Fareeha's entire body stiffens and the thought over overstepping boundries flashes across Lena's brain. She's about to pull away and apologize when a hand slides onto the small of her back and another onto the side of her face. Fareeha's lips finally respond and the fluttering in her chest returns tenfold.

Absolute dorks, the both of them.


	5. Zandra

"Lena, are you in here?"

"Over here, love!"

Fareeha lets the door shut behind her and steps into the brightly lit hangar bay. The space is modest, just big enough to comfortably house the small jet that Lena's voice is calling out from behind. The hairs on the back of her neck bristle up when she hears another voice. Her steps quicken ever so slightly.

"No that doesn't go there, quit screwing around."

"But any place is a good place for a screw."

"Oxton, if you don't want this wrench shoved up your ass-"

Fareeha ducks under the nose of the plane to see Lena and another woman working on the engines near the cockpit. It's a new face she's never seen before, Lena never mentioned working with anyone other than her booking assistant, Murcat.

"One more, hold it steady."

"Please, 'steady' is my middle name."

"You don't have a middle name."

"Can always give myself one."

The logical part of Fareeha's brain registers that of course, Lena's a pilot, not an engineer. Someone has to keep her plane in working order. But the other part zeros in on how close the two are standing as Lena is holding up a piece for the woman to attach onto the engine. How they banter and giggle and how embarrassingly ignorant Fareeha has been on the existence of this person that Lena is being so friendly with.

"There, all good, that should fix the noise." The two finally peel away from the open engine.

"Wicked! You're the bee's knees, Zandra." Lena's eyes light up upon seeing Fareeha patiently waiting behind them, completely missing the slight scowl she has on her face. "Fareeha! Like you meet the brilliant mind behind my jet, Zandra Salam. Helped me outfit the beauty so my chrono-anchor don't cock up the meters."

Zandra removes her leather glove and extends a hand out for her to shake. Though she is smiling, Fareeha can pick out the discomfort in her eyes as she stares the engineer down.

"Fareeha Amari." She replies stiffly, giving the hand the firmest grip she can get away with. Fareeha is able to get a good look at her; hair up in a militaristic bun, sharp eyes much like her own, a small scar on her neck.

"Amari? I have met your mother when I did a joint project with Overwatch years ago."

Fareeha's scowl deepens, of course everyone knew her mother. Jealousy rears its ugly head as Fareeha thinks about how this Zandra has had the honor of working with Overwatch while she was barred from joining the organization.

She stops herself before she goes too far down the train of thought.

"I'll grab the maintenance log, you can manage to put the plate back on right?" Lena takes off her glove and chucks it at Zandra's retreating back.

"Oi! Course I can."

"Sure, sure."

"Blasted woman." Lena mumbles, retrieving the sheet of metal from the ground.

Fareeha automatically lends a hand and holds it in place a Lena tightens the bolts. There's still a bitter taste in the back of her mouth even though she spots an adorable smear of old grease on Lena's chin that she wants to wipe off. She watches as the pilot works, eyes focused on the task at hand.

"So, Zandra." Fareeha begins, her voice an odd mixture of insecurity, anxiousness, and anger.

The last bolt is put into place and they step away from the belly of the jet. With a sigh, Lena removes the other glove and wrings her hands together.

"Yeah, she knew Murcat when I first started poking around to become a tour pilot. The company thought it'd be a good investment to specialize a jet for someone of my 'fame'; everyone's gonna want to fly with an Overwatch pilot. Picked out this girl, took a few months and an arseload of creds but the fact I was completely booked for my first five months says it was worth it."

Fareeha never even thought about Lena's anchor possibly interfering with machinery. It made her feel that much more in the dark about Lena's life. How terrible of a girlfriend she was to not even know such an important fact. And this woman knew of this, maybe she was the one who suggested it. No doubt they did some deep research to make sure Lena was safe.

"Hey, I know that look." Fareeha mentally curses herself for being so obvious, eyes tearing away from the direction Zandra had walked off to. Fingers wrap around her hands, lips pressing softly against the knuckles. "I'm sorry for not telling you, it's not your fault. It just never came up, yeah?"

Even on her toes, Lena can barely reach up to Fareeha's chin, but that doesn't stop her from peppering it with quick kisses. Each one gently ebbs away the prickling of her neck, slowly filling in the cracks of her insecurity.

"She's just a friend, love. I'm all yours and you're all mine." Finally, Fareeha relents with a terse puff of air and leans down to capture Lena's lips in her own. The kiss teters between desperate and loving, brimming at the top with all the emotions the two of them pour into it.

It's rare that Fareeha feels that she is enough, more than enough. She swears to herself to have an actual discussion with Lena after they get home.

"Hey, whoa, nice." Zandra awkwardly greets as she returns with a paper on a clipboard. Fareeha and Lena break apart but their hands remain intertwined.

"It's all filled out, I am going to head out, I've got another plane to tune up in an hour. Tell me if your girl gives you anymore grief." Fareeha can't help the feeling that flares up her spine, an unintended double meaning. But there is a reassuring squeeze on her hand that Lena holds and she lets the feeling pass.

"Cheers, love." Lena takes the paper, giving Zandra a two finger salute.

"And a pleasure to finally meet you, Fareeha."

"Likewise."

Zandra nods one more time before ducking under the nose of the plane and heading towards the door of the hangar. Fareeha is snapped out of her racing mind when she feels a hand slip underneath her shirt. Heat spreads up her torso and up to her cheeks, though they are alone in the hangar, there is still a thrill that courses through her nerves.

"Y'know, you're kind of hot when you're all worked up." Fareeha lets out a grunt as Lena playfully nips at her neck. "But I won't make it habit, I promise love."

She looks down at Lena eyes full of genuine emotion and reassurance, a bit taken aback by the statement. Lena never promised anything, accustomed to a dangerous life in Overwatch where her usual motto would be 'no promises', for her to say it now…

Fareeha rests her palm on the side of Lena's face, leaning in for another kiss before they head to the car hand in hand.


	6. Touch (steamy)

The first time, they aren't ready.

On the couch, some b-rated action movie playing where the two of them spent most of the first hour picking out the unrealistic number of bullets the clips of the guns held. The action was at a lull as the generic protagonist's closest friend defected to the bad guys seemingly out of the blue. And now Mr. Scruff Faced Hot Bod had to watch as his once good friend gunned down every police officer before escaping oh so dramatically into the night.

Except right now, Lena's hands are feeling a touch restless. It had been almost a year since moving in with Fareeha, almost five months since the day of the heart shaped lentils. She presses her ear against Fareeha's stomach, hearing the sound of breath being drawn in, the quiet gurgling of dinner. Warmth radiates off the woman in waves leaving Lena to wonder how such a furnace of a person could survive in a place like Egypt.

Slowly, she drags the tips of her fingers on Fareeha's thigh on which her back is laying on, up and up, catching the hem of her shorts. Her lips curl into a sly grin at the sound of Fareeha's breathing taking a shutter. Lena hums, knowing that Fareeha could feel the vibrations of the sound.

"Hey love." Twisting her body, Lena rests onto Fareeha's front, taking special attention to press as much of her body up against her.

Fareeha suddenly finds the movie on the screen far more interesting than before.

More betrayal, but the good guys are beating them back. Slowly, until the battle between the protagonist and his once old time friend.

There is a heavy blush set on Fareeha's cheeks, visible even in the dim lighting of the living room. Her lips are slightly parted, lungs sounding a touch louder as Lena continues to draw haphazard patterns onto her hips. Fareeha brings her arms up, settling her hands loosely around Lena's waist.

She chances a look down at the pilot, her mouth going dry at the deep, richness swirling in her eyes. Heat builds in her cheeks and sparks along every single point of contact between them.

"Fareeha~" Lena bites her lip, grinning wildly, knowing that Fareeha's mind has probably short circuited by now. She slides her hands underneath Fareeha's shirt, feeling scorching hot skin and tight muscles.

"Are you sure about this?" Fareeha is finally to croak out some words, tightening her grip on Lena's waist.

A bubbly giggle spills from Lena's mouth as she reaches up and pecks Fareeha's lips.

"I wouldn't be touchin' ya if I wasn't, now would I?" She pauses, gazes flicking down at the hands around her waist in a moment of hesitation. All movement come to a halt and Lena pulls back just a hair. "Unless you're not, love."

The air is heavy with the implication of the question. Though Fareeha's entire body is warm to the touch, the metal of her hands is much cooler as they rest on the sliver of skin between Lena's shorts and tank-top.

The answer is in the silence that follows soon after and Lena pulls her hands back fully, taking one of Fareeha's in her own and bringing it up to her face.

"We can take it slow, love. Ain't no rush." She whispers against the smooth metal. There is no pulse, not radiance of heat; just a muted hum as if it were the casing of a computer. "Is that okay?"

Their eyes remain locked. Fareeha nodding silently and allowing Lena to press the palm of her prosthetic against her warm cheek. She knows it's warm, remembers what it felt like to touch the skin of another with her real hands. But all she gets now is a stifled feeling as if she were wearing a pair of leather gloves. And a pit of disgust churn incessantly in her stomach.

Inch by inch, Lena watches Fareeha for any sign to tell her to stop as she guides the hand down her neck, holding it for a moment against her throat and letting Fareeha feel the rasp of every breath. Down, lower, onto her chest, over the raised edge of the anchor embedded between her breasts. And finally, to the left where under layers of muscle, bone, and fat is a heart that's sitting not so still.

"Feel that, Fareeha."

Fareeha nods, her eyes unable to look away from the sight of her hand, her repulsive mechanical hand, encased in Lena's smaller one. Where it is pressed flat against Lena's chest next to the glow of the woman's anchor. Even through the quieted sensations, she can feel each heavy thud of Lena's quickened heart.

"You're doing that to me, every single part of you." Fareeha presses lightly against Lena's chest, desperate to feel more. She swallows thickly, yes, yes she can feel it. "I want you so bad, love."

Fareeha's throat catches at the sound of the words uncharacteristically low and husky for Lena. She wills herself to relax, finally becoming aware at how tense she is. This time, Fareeha moves her hand herself, bringing it over the peak Lena's breast and giving it an experimental squeeze.

A soft moan tumbles out of Lena's throat, her grip tightening a bit around Fareeha's wrist. But she doesn't stop her. The touch is there to reassure that yes, Fareeha may proceed, that Lena _wants_ her to proceed.

Bringing her other hand up, Fareeha lifts up the pink tank top. Only then does Lena release her hold and raise her arms up so the shirt can be slipped up and over. Again, a wave of self consciousness washes over Fareeha at the stark contrast between her navy blue hands and Lena's pale skin.

She wants to puke, cry, stop looking at-

There are lips kissing on her knuckles, firmer than what Lena usually does when kissing Fareeha on the cheek, but she soon realizes what she is trying to do. The pressure comes across louder and in a fleeting moment, almost feels as if it were her real hands.

Again, Lena guides the hand down the same path and this time, there is nothing between the now warm metal of Fareeha's hand and Lena's heated skin. She can feel the pulse echoing up her arm, off beat between with her wildly drumming heart. Like a song once sung but now spoken with a different tongue, it has been so long since Fareeha has actually _touched_ someone.

But in a moment it flashes back; the darkness, musty smell of mold and fermenting grapes. The pain, the despair.

Debris raining down.

As if burned by a fire, Fareeha wrenches her hands out of Lena's grasp, holding them tight to her chest that refuses to draw breath. Her eyes are wide and staring and Lena scrambles to carefully cup her hands around her face. It shocks her how cold Fareeha's skin suddenly is.

"Shhhh, it's okay, love, I'm here. I'm here and you're here with me." She coaxes Fareeha's head forward, making sure to not force the woman. Lena eases Fareeha into the crook of her neck, pressing soft little kisses onto her jaw. "We don't need to go any further, yeah?"

The tightness in Fareeha's chest gradually unfurls with every quiet whisper of love and feathery kiss. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes. So weak, so small, she can't even handle the sight of her own hands. But she can feel Lena's pulse so loud pressed up against her ear, a steady strum that she wishes she could match with her own.

She can't give what Lena wants.

"I'm sorry."

Lena pulls back, wiping away the droplets that have collected on the edges of Fareeha's eyes. In the darkness of the room, Lena's smile seems to glow with all the care in the world.

"Don't be, we'll work on it together."

The ending scene is playing out, the last of the villains throwing themselves at the hero in a desperate attempt to stop him. And as the super villain, the mastermind, the ring leader breaths his dying breath, he reveals that the hero was the one in the wrong all along.

But neither of them notice as the rubble on the scene fades to black and credits begin to roll. Lena's face is nuzzled against Fareeha's neck, their limbs entangled to fit face to face on the couch. Her soft breaths tickle every so often but Fareeha relishes it; the heat, the gentle washing over small hairs, Lena's bare skin against her own.

The simple touch is enough.


	7. Comfort (steamy)

It's slow, a bit ridiculous, but ultimately sweet. Little things that they both start to notice together.

At a restaurant where they would both use the restroom before sitting down for their meal.

Lena notices first, smiling wildly to herself without making a comment as Fareeha wets her hands and retrieves two pumps of soap from the dispenser. Every time the ritual to the bathroom was performed, Fareeha would usually stay leaning on the wall, watching Lena as she washed up.

'Sterilization sequence, it keeps the limbs cleaner than soap and water would.'

But this is the first time since being around the woman that Lena has seen Fareeha wash her hands without them being caked beyond whatever the 'sequence' could kill off.

It isn't until the second time, at some Thai place does Lena glance down and see Fareeha washing her hands. She leans over, pecking a kiss on her cheek, catching Fareeha be surprise. The water tap shuts off, Fareeha looking a bit sheepish as Lena hands her a paper towel. Thankfully the restroom is empty.

A moment is shared.

Fareeha stands, watching Lena wrap her prosthetics in her hands, her fingertips gently stroking the back of Fareeha's knuckles. It's muted, but it's there, feeling as real as ever. It's a new feeling that drags up tatters of old fear.

But it's been getting better.

She expects Lena to make a humorous quip, some playful jab that would make her huff in mock annoyance. But she doesn't. Just a smile, and a kiss makes Fareeha's heart feel too big for her chest.

They walk hand in hand back to their booth.

"Here I am! Stuck in the middle with you!"

The guitar picks up and Lena breaks out into a dance that's very much of her just shaking her ass. She is completely uncoordinated but too happy to care, pretending that the wooden spoon in her hand is a microphone and the kitchen a dance floor. Fareeha watches her, wine glass in hand half empty in exchange for the endless chuckles bubbling from her throat.

A twirl and an impressive distance to be slid in socks later, Lena shoulders into Fareeha with a lopsided grin. She does an absurdly cute shimmy and Fareeha is very close to throwing her head back in full blown laughter. Lena slaps a hand onto her back, leaning in close enough for Fareeha to see the rosy blush covering her face.

"-and say, please" Lena sings, very very close with her wanders hooking into Fareeha's waistband. Fareeha's lungs stutter, Lena warm body presses in close as she hold out the last note. "Please."

Fareeha doesn't hear the rest of the lyrics, isn't even sure if Lena sings them. All she can think about is her hand resting on the small of Lena's back, how close she is, how much she wants to kiss her lips. Until Lena is reaching up, with Fareeha already slouched over, it isn't long until Lena's lips are on hers. They're sticky and sweet from the tasting of the icing Lena was preparing.

And she gets lost in it all, the buzz of the wine filling in the gaps and making her a bit bolder, a bit more eager, just a bit more hungry. Fareeha's hand splays downwards, edging on the top of Lena's ass who groans low into the kiss. She sets her wine glass onto the counter and threads her fingers through unruly brown locks. Every part of her aches to feel closer to the woman.

It's a quick escalation into a flurry of teeth and tongue, they taste each other with breaths coming out ragged. Suddenly desperate, the kitchen somehow feeling degrees hotter. The wooden spoon clatters onto the counter next to her and Lena is cupping the sides of Fareeha's face.

Lena is the first to pull back from the kiss with a sharp hiss. Fareeha has shoved her thigh in between Lena's legs, her hand now both on Lena's hips. It doesn't take much encouragement for Lena to grind herself forward onto the firm muscle.

"Bloody fuck." The whispers words spread like a wildfire across Fareeha's neck where Lena has buried her face in.

Something swirls in Fareeha at the sound and the high moan that follows after. Though she cannot see her face, Fareeha watches Lena's back as is rises and falls, shudders, shakes, and absolutely quivers with every thrust of her hips; she needs more.

"Beautiful." She murmurs, more of a breathless prayer as she can't tear her eyes away. Fareeha feels Lena's lips curl into a smile against her skin.

Lena's arms wrap tight around the back of Fareeha's neck, it's a split second before she realizes what Lena is about to do. With a bit of a bounce, Lena straddles Fareeha's waist with her legs, Fareeha's hands taking the weight.

And not a moment later, the shattering of glass.

It takes a few blinks until both of them realize what the noise was. Glancing down, there is a broken wine glass on the tile and a quite artistic spatter of deep crimson on the cupboards.

"Ah, bloody fuck." This time Lena groans disappointmently, squirming in Fareeha's arms until she lets her back down. "Sorry 'bout that love."

"It was an honest mistake." A wicked grin spreads across her face. "It's nothing to wine about."

The mood instantly changes with Fareeha feeling very smug with herself and Lena staring deadpanned at her. She chuckles at Lena's exaggerated eye roll and retrieves the dustpan and brush for her.

"That, that was a crime." They both crouch over, a towel in hand to wipe up the spilled drink. Fareeha presses a quick kiss onto Lena's pouting lips, unable to hold back the smile on her face.

A buzzing fills the air and their heads pop up at the sound.

"Ah, cake's done! Take it out, yeah? I'll finish cleaning this up."

Fareeha nods, standing back up and walking over to the oven. A quick turn of the knob, a button pressed and she opens the door. The rich smell of chocolate wafts throughout the flat, heavy enough to send tingles down the back of Fareeha's neck.

"Will you hand me the oven mitts, habibti." Fareeha says without a second thought, impaling a bamboo skewer into the center of the pastry to see if it was cooked.

Wait

Her eyebrows draw together at the realization. Maybe it was the alcohol in her system, maybe they 'fun' just moments ago, or the shattering of the glass or something else distracting Fareeha. It had to be, why would she need oven gloves if her hands were rated for over 200 celsius. Fareeha glances back, heart in her throat once more at the sight of Lena's bright smile and two polka dot mitts in hand.

It also might be the hot air of the oven or it might be a blush on her face. Perhaps of embarrassment or of love, she doesn't know.

But Lena just keeps smiling, placing a kiss of her own onto Fareeha's lips and giving her the oven mitts.

"Here you are, love." She says as if nothing were wrong, but her eyes sparkle with such warmth.

And so Fareeha smiles herself with a soft "thank you". The quilted cotton slides easily over her metal hands. She swears she can feel the warmth through the gloves.

* * *

An upgrade, Lena takes the day off to go in with Fareeha to the local hospital.

The place is huge, she stands with her mouth agape, staring in awe. Fareeha just smiles and stands with her, she did that too when she left the place for the first time after her recovery. To think she had spent four months of her life in the building before even seeing the outside of it.

Fareeha tells her little stories as they pass through the halls, up the stairs cause hey, it's healthy and the view through the glass is brilliant. They pass by a few waiting rooms, slowly the general patients pitter away to those with prosthetics, some old faces that Fareeha can recognize. She looks down to their clasped hands.

Navy blue against Lena's skin.

A stirring reminiscent of something she used to cry about. It's there, she knows, it'll always be there.

But she smiles and swears she can feel Lena's heartbeat through her hand.

* * *

Synthetic skin

A trial, meant to enhance touch sensations, an extra layer to protect the joints, a textured surface to help with grip. The ability to look and feel just like human skin.

Still relatively new, but recommended considering Fareeha's job and workplace where grit could get trapped and damage the joints. It all makes logical sense, Fareeha finds herself agreeing with all the selling points. She turns to Lena, mind half made but curious to what she has to say.

"Think it's great," Lena is rubbing her thumb across the back of Fareeha's hand. "If you want to, love."

Up to her. Fareeha gently unwinds her hand from Lena's, bringing both of them into her lap. Their smooth surface shine in the light of the office room. Blue and gold, her favorite colors. They are a sight that she hated so much at first, but now. The fondness in her heart wins against the disgust that simmers below.

Steps, a journey, Lena told her it took her years until she was comfortable looking at herself in the mirror.

But synthetic skin to mask her prosthetics. Who is really benefiting from that cosmetic point?

"Is it possible…"

And it is. After much conversation, they decide on the model that Fareeha wants. Thin, minimal sensory enhancement, and colored to match the segments below. As if it isn't even there.

She doesn't want to forget the journey they have taken together. How when she sees the blue and gold fingers, now all she can think about is Lena's hands intertwined with hers. Fareeha can't completely ignore the nipping memories at the back of her head, they are meant to be remembered; a lesson.

But it doesn't mean she has to live in them.

So days later, another trip, and they walk out of the hospital hand in hand. The change is barely noticeable, the touch still muted, her hands still slightly colder than the rest of her body with a hum as if it were the casing of a computer.

And this time, Fareeha is okay with that.


	8. Of Wings

Lena wouldn't call herself the most observant person.

It begins with a night that has become a ritual after countless others; a dinner, a possible chore or two, and then a nice evening spent together.

This night, Lena plays her flute as Fareeha does maintenance on her arms. The air is quieter than usual and Fareeha relates it to a bad day at work when Lena inquire. Another question has her stiffening, fingers tight around the tool in her hand; Lena has to stop herself from prying too hard.

Lena kisses her on the cheek and continues playing, the soft melody filling the silence between them for the rest of the night.

"I'm sorry," Fareeha whispers, wrapping her arms around Lena's waist as she slips into bed. "I'll tell you when I'm ready."

"No worries, love." It's a lie, half of it at least, Lena is always worrying but worrying never really solves any of her problems. It's not like she can control it, though. "I'll be here when you are ready."

Fareeha squeezes her a bit tighter and places small kisses along the back of Lena's neck. She can't help but think how lucky she is and how guilty she feels for not being able to confess what is bothering her. It shouldn't be an issue, really, but...

Heat pricks at her eyes and she tries to focus on something else.

The steady breathing of Lena who has already fallen asleep. Like a little bundle of pure love; she would tear the world apart for this woman, take on all the burdens just to see her comfortable.

The last thing Fareeha wants is to weigh her down with her problems.

* * *

The days pass and it would seem that is was just that, a bad day. Fareeha is back to making her ridiculous jokes and puns. They're at the market when Lena sprints over to a fruit stand and begins to fiddle with something. Fareeha is on the other side of it, picking out a few prickly pears for them.

"Hey love!" She glances up and sees Lena jogging over to her with a wide grin. Her head tilts to the side in confusion as Lena shoves a lime into her hand.

"What," even more puzzlement as Fareeha turns it around to see the words _'_ _You're so bloody cute'_ scrawled on it. The seconds pass and Fareeha is still staring at the piece of fruit trying to decipher its code.

Finally, she looks up for an explanation.

"It's a pickup _lime."_ Lena smiles wider than ever, pointing two finger guns at her.

Oh...dear….

"Now _that_ is a crime." Fareeha groans, actually palming half her face before leaning forward and kissing Lena on the cheek.

Lena looks mighty proud of herself.

Of course they have to purchase such a work of art and when they get home, they place it on the dining table. Fareeha can't help but chuckle every time she catches the sight of it.

* * *

"Oi Liara, what's my flight schedule look like this week?" Lena asks the holopad on the counter as she rummages through the freezer. The tech chimes once it recognizes the question.

"You are fully booked, Lena Oxton. Your first tour is today, Monday at 0900 with-"

She stops listening to the names in favor of watching her breakfast sandwich spin round and round in the microwave. Fareeha had to depart earlier than usual this morning, leaving Lena to do her routine alone. The wait becomes too much and Lena pops the door open with 20 seconds left on the timer, not caring that the center is lukewarm compared to the outer edges of the biscuit.

Lena scrolls through the names with her arm braced on the counter as she shoves the food into her mouth. Her finger stop swiping and she hurries to scroll back up at a familiar face that makes her break out into a grin. _Well, bollocks_

Monday, last flight 1600; Amari, Fareeha.

Today. How did Lena miss this and when the hell did Fareeha book this flight?

With a smile on her face and warmth in her heart, Lena takes a moment to admire the photo on her holopad. It may be Fareeha's standard identification picture but that does little to make her any less attractive. It's not just another day at work now, there's something else to look forward to.

Today was going to be a good day.

* * *

 _'_ _Bloody sun making it too bloody hot, feels like I'm melting in my flight suit.'_

Lena curses to herself. Even after almost a year and a quarter of living in Egypt with Fareeha, and even longer before that while stationed here during Overwatch, she still can't get over how hot it could get. The fabric of her fight suit is moist to the touch with the sleeves tied around her waist, leaving Lena in just her light blue tank top.

She's halfway through her 30 minute break when the metal door opens. Not the usual hesitant easing that most patrons do, but a confident swing followed by the clicking of dress shoes. Lena looks up from her holopad and nearly drops it.

"Greetings, _habibti."_ Fareeha grins smoothly, hands in her pockets as she strides over.

The moisture in Lena's mouth seems to disappear almost immediately at the sight of her; a crisp dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, fitted enough to show off the cut of Fareeha's figure. There's a hint of dust smudged in a spot but Lena can hardly blame her when Fareeha looks like a million creds while Lena is sweating her ass off.

"Oh...fuck," is all Lena can manage, just about ready to pass out with the amount of heat rising to her cheeks. How could she forget how stunning Fareeha looks.

"I am not intruding, am I?" Fareeha asks, smiling down at Lena when she finally steps close enough.

The pilot can't properly form words yet, having forgotten that Fareeha was scheduled as her last tour. Lena gets lost in her smile, in her eyes, in the whole damn thing as Fareeha gently cups the back of her head. If Fareeha held any disdain for the amount of sweat on Lena's neck, she doesn't show it.

"Naw, you're fine. love" Lena stammers out, eyes flicking down to Fareeha's collarbone exposed from undone button at the top of her shirt. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. "So bloody fine."

Fareeha lets out a throaty chuckle, fully aware of the effect she is having on Lena. She leans down and captures her lips in a kiss.

There's something a touch hesitant in Fareeha's movements that Lena cannot decide whether is real or a figment of her imagination. As if it is all just an act, some kind of tension that Fareeha is desperately trying to mask. Again, Lena wouldn't consider herself the most observant person.

But when it concerns Fareeha…

"You sly bugger." Lena groans, earning another chuckle from Fareeha along with a playful shrug of her shoulders and the raising of her eyebrows. _Caught red handed_

Lena takes Fareeha's extended hand, letting out a surprised yelp as Fareeha literally lifts up her into her arms. With the extra momentum, she twirls her around until Lena would barely be able to consider herself steady on her feet.

Fareeha is smiling so brightly that Lena can't help but do the same.

That and the touch of worry. She doesn't want to question it lest like grasping for smoke; any movement and it will disappear. Their foreheads touch, eyes closed, silent with nothing but their gentle breathing between them.

 _Not forever_

maybe

But at least

 _for just a bit longer_

"I love you." Fareeha whispers so quietly, so raw around the edges that Fareeha is fearful she'll burst into tears at any moment.

Lena's heart leaps and gets caught in her ribs. The confession takes her voice hostage but she doesn't even want it back. She has to fight to say the words she's been aching to say for months now. If she isn't careful, Lena might start crying herself.

"I love you, too."

Neither of them want to pull away with Fareeha holding her close, despite the heat, despite the schedule she needs to keep, despite it all; all they want to do is stay in this moment. But away they must go and Lena reaches up on her toes to place a kiss onto Fareeha's lips; cheerful and grateful all the same, with as much levity as the erratic flutterings of her swollen heart.

She tries to ignore the desperation she sees hidden behind Fareeha's movements.

"Shall we?" Fareeha asks as she straightens up and gestures for Lena to lead the way.

The flight suit is shrugged back on along with a parachute for each of them. Lena doesn't need to check Fareeha's straps given her years in the military but she'll take any excuse she can get to put on her hands on her love.

It's fruitless, really, she can only check the lower buckles given her height. Fareeha crouches down after noticing Lena skipping the upper ones, earning herself a pout and a punch on the arm.

Fareeha would answer with a sly smirk if anyone were to ask about the rather perfect view of Lena's backside while they climbed the small staircase to the cockpit.

"So, we off to anywhere in particular?" Lena asks as she secures her helmet into place.

The air shifts immediately. A glance at the video feed of the back seat shows Fareeha with her face staring out the window. She can't see anything above the bridge of her nose due to Fareeha's helmet but her oxygen mask isn't on yet. Fareeha's lips are pressed thin. Lena isn't quite sure how to proceed, opting to finish her takeoff list while waiting for an answer.

"Can you take us by the Cairo Tower?"

"Sure can do, love." Lena grins, knowing that she can't see it but hoping that her tone can reassure Fareeha.

They exit out of the hanger and takeoff goes smoothly. Within minutes, the tall building comes into view, something Lena isn't all too familiar with as the Cairo Tower is one of the less requested landmarks. There are sections of the basketweave that are reinforced with metal, but for the most part, it has stood against the trials of time. Its shape reminds Lena of Big Ben, a twinge of homesickness tugs at her heart.

"My mother used to bring me here as a child." Fareeha says so distantly as if an afterthought, her hand on the windshield for a moment before it is pulled back into her lap. Lena wishes that there was a way for her to hold Fareeha's hand.

Lena would tear the world apart for this woman, take on all the burdens just to see her comfortable. Anything to help ease the mountain of stress that has weighed down Fareeha's shoulders for so long.

"We can talk about it if you'd like." An open door, Lena has been working on scaling back her proddings, at least with Fareeha. She briefly remembers the 'bad day' Fareeha had a week ago, curious but she needs to trust Fareeha to tell her when she's ready.

The impatiences within her makes Lena hope now is the time.

In reality, even though they've lived and known each other for so long, they don't know much about each other's parents. Lena knows Ana from her days in Overwatch, knows that Fareeha's father lives in Canada, but that's about it. And in turn, Fareeha knows about Lena's father in prison and her mother...missing, for lack of a better term.

Lena remembers why they don't talk about their parents.

"When I was a child, I used to love birds. I would tear up my morning _baladi_ to feed to the ducks on my way to school." Fareeha pauses with a chuckle, remembering her foolishness in her younger years. "My mother scolded me when she found out."

Instead of remaining somber, Fareeha continues to laugh softly to herself at a joke she has yet to reveal to Lena. A fond laugh of younger years, perhaps better years.

 _Simpler years_

"It was not that I was throwing away half my breakfast, she scolded me for feeding them bread. My mum told me I was killing the poor ducks."

They curl around the tower, wings nearly perpendicular with the ground. Twirling round and round until the plane clears the top and shoots out into the open sky.

"The next morning, she collected the vegetable scraps from the night before and we went to feed the ducks together."

Lena gently levels the plane out. They're far above the city now, with everything melting away into a patchwork quilt of buildings and parks. With the flick of her wrist, the nose dips and down they dive; falling but in control, hands gripping, teeth clenching down tight.

The adrenaline hits hard, a sort of weightlessness that brings with it freedom. Unknown to Lena, Fareeha closes her eyes and loses herself to it. Yes, the weight lifts off her shoulders momentarily and she surrenders to the trust she puts into Lena's piloting skills. She imagines wings.

And then at the last second, up and weaving once more like a needle that sews squares of fabric together. Finally air finds its way into both their lungs. It feels as if it's not enough and yet it feels like there is so much of it that Fareeha's lungs may tear. So much, now is the time.

"She survived." Fareeha chokes out.

It's first confusion, _'_ _She survived what?'_ Lena thinks to herself, fearing that she has missed some important piece of information. Until she thinks about Ana, thinks about the report that left them all speechless. The encounter with Talon and Widowmaker.

"She survived." Lena repeats in utter disbelief.

"I received a letter from her a week ago," Fareeha's words crumble at the end. On the verge of tears but she's smiling; it hurts but she wants to feel hopeful.

Fareeha can't decide just how she feels about it all. Every night, every waking moment, trying to make sense of the rolling storm that has made her mind a mess. She thought she could keep it to herself, just as her mother asked her to. She thought she could be strong like her, like she always dreamed of being, and carrying this burden alone..

Her hands tremble ever so slightly despite the built in stabilizers. Fareeha has spent so much time mourning. Was it so terrible of her to feel free for just a moment at the news of her mother's death? Like the parting of clouds and the sun streaming down with the sky clear and ready for her to touch. No chains of doubts or thirst for approval from her mother. Cruel in its own way and so dreadfully selfish.

And now…

Perhaps Fareeha feels as though the clouds are coming back.

But she looks out the window to the spotless skies surrounding them. Her raptora suit would never allow her to fly this high nor for this long. They've found themselves over the vast stretches of farmland away from the cities and Fareeha can swear that she can see ducks dotting the waters of the Nile below. Her head jerks away from the sight, from the pain that impales her chest, and back to the sky above them.

The endless sky so close Fareeha almost believes that she has made it.

"Thank you for telling me, Fareeha." Lena says with all the love in the world that she can offer.

And perhaps this high up in the air, if this is the love that Lena can give; if this affection that is so deeply rooted into her heart is of Lena's doing. This security. This feeling that she is wanted, and she is enough, and that Lena is so _damned_ proud of her. Perhaps Fareeha doesn't need to chase after her mother's approval anymore.

Fareeha's hand comes up and worms into the space between the eyeshield and the oxygen mask.

She's crying.

Perhaps Fareeha _has_ made it.

* * *

They talk until the fuel runs out, until their voices are a bit hoarse and their eyes more than a bit dry.

Back to the hanger and out of the cockpit, Lena rushes to wrap her arms around Fareeha. She gives her the tightest hug she can. Now is a time that she wishes she were a bit taller so she could more easily kiss Fareeha and promise her it'll all be alright.

"I love you so much." Lena mumbles into Fareeha's chest. She takes Fareeha's hands, placing a kiss on each of them.

They no longer feel muted, not machine but flesh, as if alive and tingling with every touch. Fareeha can feel the pressing of Lena's lips and her breath that ghosts over the synthetic skin. Like real hands. It's all in her mind, yes, but Fareeha just can't bring herself to care either way.

"As much as I love you?" Fareeha teases.

"You can bet your knickers on it." Lena grins up at her, the playful spark returning.

"How about a nice dinner instead?"

"Close enough."

Fareeha leans down for a quick peck on the lips before they go to shedding their parachutes and the usual post-flight procedures. Her entire body is a buzz, not quite happy, no. Perhaps content, cleansed, cathartic. It's not complete freedom from all her worries, but she feels lighter; like a helping hand has picked up a corner of her burden.

The feeling of not quite weightlessness, but of new strength to carry on

 _The feeling of wings._


	9. Of Touch

The fifth time...the fifth time.

Fareeha pushes Lena's shirt up until she has clear access to her taut stomach that flexes with every moan and whimper. Her kisses are equal parts of hunger and worship. _'_ _So beautiful'_ she keeps thinking to herself as she tries to convey her thoughts through the motions of her lips and tongue.

Until Lena is writhing underneath her, urging her, _begging_ her to keep going.

Neither can tell whether this time will be different from all the other times they've tried. Never anyone's fault, just the eternal patience from Lena that Fareeha is so grateful for. Hands pull Fareeha's mind out of her thoughts and face away from the trail of red marks she has made down Lena's skin. Up and up until their lips crash together.

"Love, please, _more."_ Lena gasps out, their foreheads knocking against each other.

Her words carry not the pressure to perform, but the reassurance that Fareeha is wanted.

Her hips jerk up as she grinds herself on Fareeha's thigh, cursing the four layers of fabric between them. The friction makes her head spin, the smell of Fareeha makes her lungs burn, and the sight, _oh lord,_ the sight makes Lena wish they had kept the lights on. For now, she'll have to be content with the soft glow of her anchor.

Lena's skin is so hot against Fareeha's hands, it scares her to no end. It is desire that Fareeha finally allows herself to surrender to. The shirt is tugged up and over Lena's head, her sports bra following in suit and then the same with Fareeha's shirt and bra. They wordlessly admire each other. It's not the first time they've seen each other naked having shared plenty of showers before. It doesn't make it any less breathtaking.

Fingers wrap around Fareeha's right hand, slowly, Lena brings it up to her face. Fareeha's eyes glaze over; entranced, intrigued, enraptured by the sight. In the back of her mind, there is something she is not able to shake, the whispers of disgust and cursed memories.

The air gets caught in her throat as Lena presses the hand to cup her face for a second before bringing it to her mouth. Her eyes lock onto Fareeha's; coy and teasing as she wraps her lips around the first digit.

Lena's mouth feels like a pit of fire that engulfs Fareeha's hand and she can't get enough of it.

Fareeha bites down on her lip hard enough she swears she can taste blood. It takes so much for her to hold back and yet a low groan is able to slip past her defenses as her finger is drawn deeper into Lena's hot, wet mouth. It is pulled out momentarily for a quick kiss and then Lena takes in another.

She can't tear her eyes away from the painfully arousing sight of her fingers in Lena's mouth and she feels her tongue swirl round and round them. Another groan tears free with the gentle grazing of teeth.

Once

Twice

Fareeha doesn't realize she's been palming Lena's breast until her neck gives out and head cranes down as a particularly loud moan is ripped out of her. She sees her hand, again, a wave of self-consciousness washes over Fareeha at the stark contrast between her navy blue and Lena's pale skin.

Fight it back

All in her mind, she wants this so badly so why does this revulsion keep coming back to haunt her.

"Fareeha." Lena says quietly, her voice still heavy with lust but she tilts her face up with her finger hooked under Fareeha's chin. "We can stop if-"

No, no, no, _no_. This time is different, with new determination, she will _make_ this time different. It's Fareeha's turn to lean down and steal a kiss from Lena. Reassuring, she's trying to convince the both of them.

"I want this," the confession is so desperate, the words cement the desire into Fareeha's heart. "But thank you for checking in, Lena."

Fareeha murmurs as she kisses her way down Lena's face and along her jaw. She focuses on all the noises Lena has to offer. _'_ _Relax'_ Fareeha reminds herself. All the time in the world and Lena is here to help her along. The fervid aching at the pit of Fareeha's gut grows like an itch that demands to be scratched and she pushes forward.

Blunt nails rake up and down the small of Fareeha's back sending tingles up her spine.

Her mouth finds itself licking and sucking at Lena's throat. Lower still, the rasping of Lena's unrestrained cries reverberating across her lips. She latches onto a spot, sucking hard and holding, it is sure to be purple and angry in the morning. For now, the guttural moan that Lena makes, the desperate clawing at the muscles of Fareeha's back, all of it adds fuel to the fire.

She soothes it with a kiss before moving on. There is a moment of repose when Fareeha reaches Lena's anchor that is surrounded by jagged scar tissue. This is not the first time she has been this close to it and admired its almost magical workings, but its beauty and the weight of what it represents demands her respect all the same.

A soft kiss onto the warm metal. Fareeha glances up and catches Lena looking down at her with eyes so vulnerable.

Fareeha gives her a sly smile, keeping eye contact as she shifts to the right and pulls her nipple into her mouth. It's a game of chicken as Fareeha swirls her tongue around the already stiff peak, teasing, nipping until Lena can't take it anymore and her head is thrown back with a low groan and a stutter.

" _Fuck, love,_ fuck." Lena can barely get the words out let alone try for longer sentences. She entangles her hands into Fareeha's hair, gentle on the verge of desperation, and urges her down.

Fareeha is more than happy to comply. She leaves a trail of wet kisses with the salty taste of sweat heavy on her tongue. Down to the waistband of Lena's shorts where Fareeha takes the fabric between her teeth and slowly, ever so slowly, tugs them down.

Lena can't take her eye off of the sight, entranced just as Fareeha was moments earlier. Every part of her aches to be touched, to feel the strong press of Fareeha's fingers and dizzying swipes of her tongue. Unyielding hands hold her hips still leaving her unable to move, unable to respond to the tickling kisses Fareeha is placing centimeters away from where she wants her; where she _needs her._

"Please, please, please." The words vary between prayers and grunts but they make up the dire mantra pouring forth from Lena's mouth that she cannot hope to stem.

Her hips are almost able to jerk out of Fareeha's grip when Lena feels two, cool digits touch down at the entrance of her snatch.

The wetness she finds there has already coated the tips in a light sheen. In this moment, it doesn't occur to her how far they have come; only how much more the both of them want to go.

She pauses, half teasing half something else as Fareeha looks back up, eyes searching.

"May I?" Fareeha asks.

There's enough wiggle room for Lena to grind herself down. Her hands tighten on Fareeha's broad shoulders at the sensation of the first centimeter of her fingers sliding into her. _Oh lord_ how long she has wanted this.

"Yes, Fareeha, yes please!" Lena's voice cracks at the final word.

Finally it does click, with a sudden dawning as Fareeha sinks her fingers in down to the knuckle and she recognizes the scorching heat that engulfs them mirrors that of which burns within her. She has forgotten that these aren't her hands, but she has made them hers. It's not disgust but blinding pride and warmth as Lena pulls her closer, pulls her deeper, pulls her up for another searing kiss.

Wanted, all of her is _wanted_.

In the back of her mind, she wants to cry at the feeling of acceptance that swells in her chest but right now, there are more pressing matters at hand like the lips moving against hers.

Fareeha's rustiness shows through only having touched herself and few others since first getting the prosthetics. Even then, it was an action with a definite goal in mind; a means to something swift and almost as mechanical as her limbs. And Lena's patience still takes her by surprise.

Like relearning a language, a dance, fumbling to find the right rhythm and steps.

"Another"

"To the righ- _fuck_ there, love. Please"

"Fareeha, Fareeha!"

Lena guides her and Fareeha is all too eager to follow.

Until the night is no longer young and their bodies and minds hum with satisfaction. Fareeha eases herself off of Lena's face, her thighs threatening to give out at any moment. Tired, but a good kind that leaves her unable to stop smiling. She looks at Lena after collapsing beside her and brings a hand up to brush locks of hair out of Lena's face.

They are both slick with sweat and smell of sex but neither of them care.

"You were bloody amazing, Fareeha." Lena mumbles quietly. She nuzzles her face into Fareeha's hand still warm from their activities.

A pause. Again, navy blue and gold against pale skin. It's there but this time she is able to leave it on the back burner.

"As were you." Fareeha offers her a small smile and a kiss.

"We should clean up, yeah? Don't think your fancy sterilization sequence will take care of that."

Her eyes flick from Lena's face to her hand. No, the sequence is powerful enough to even wipe away all traces of blood if need be, Fareeha doesn't need to wash them. But.

They rise up from the bed, Lena nearly falling out of it after getting her legs trapped in the covers. Side by side with an arm wrapped around Lena's waist as they shuffle to the bathroom, taking turns with the toilet and then the sink turns on.

No, she doesn't need to, but it makes her feel better about it.

Two pumps of soap

Lena is all too excited to ramble on about what she liked about their night, what she loved and what she wants to try next. Fareeha, though she cares, is far too tired to trust herself to remember it all.

"I'd love to hear about it in the morning, _habibti._ A thing called sleep seems to have plugged my ears." Fareeha explains as gently as possible. Lena stops mid sentence, giggles, and then kisses her.

Until the morning then.

* * *

And when the sun arrives, it finds two souls who are warm enough in each other's arms, whose lives are bright enough by their own light. Lena's eyes are the first to crack open, bleary to the dimly lit room. The blinding intruder is kept at bay by the noble efforts of the curtains.

She gazes down to the arms wrapped around her waist. Her fingers drag gently up and down the synthetic skin, feathery as to not disturb her companion. As if by reflex to the touch, they tighter and pull Lena closer into the heat of Fareeha's body.

Her eyes slide shut and Lena just lets herself be.

For the arms make her feel so secure that Lena almost believes that she has made it.

She rubs small circles with her thumb onto the back of Fareeha's hand. She feels the texture of her skin, the hum of the motors within, she _feels them_. Here is a person, a living anchor, a rock, and the notion that she is no longer alone. The doctors had to make a hole in her chest for the anchor to fill and yes, it does do just that, physically keeping her here. But mental health is still health.

Lena has gone so long fearing the inevitable insanity of loneliness, a cry out into the void with not even her echo to call back. She has seen how the world will end and yet she has made the decision to keep living. This may not last forever, but for now.

Here is the feeling of Fareeha's arms wrapped around her waist holding her tight, holding her here. Yes, Lena 'Tracer' Oxton is _here._

 _The feeling of touch_


	10. Of Wings and Touch

Once and again, the days pass. Not blurs like the streams of time that seem to escape Lena's fingertips. No, this time she dives in, dives deep, and doesn't care that she sometimes can't breath beneath its surface.

To be drowning in the moment, wary of the future but for now, she is content.

Lena's fingers intertwine with Fareeha's ones warmed by the morning sun. The grass of the banks tickle her bare legs and the sound ducks murmuring to themselves fills the air.

She glances over to her and wonders just how much luck has had to be bestowed upon her to be alive today. Through it all, to share this moment with a person that fills her with so much warmth. "Love" might be the word for it, but it feels just so much more than that.

Like a nightlight, a warm biscuit in the morning, a soft evening indoors and her with two left feet who couldn't dance for shit but still does so anyways because the music is the puppet master and her the willing marionette. There is a special sort of comfort she is able to relax into with the torrent of the world roaring past her and her trust that everything will be fine.

Her life jacket, her rock, the Northern star in her night sky so vast and unknown.

She hopes she is the same for Fareeha.

"Is there something on my face?"

Lena snaps out of her thoughts, slight embarrassment but by golly, she doesn't care right now with the way Fareeha tilts she head to the side, somehow both oblivious and smug at the same time.

"Just a whole lotta beautiful, love." Lena says, grinning before leaning in for a kiss.

Fareeha sputters out a response, settling to grabbing another handful of carrot peels and tossing them into the river below. The ducks quickly swim over, their chattering rise as they fight over the scraps.

Perhaps forever, perhaps, perhaps, _perhaps_

* * *

They don't take much, don't need much for the trip they have planned. A few duffle bags for each of them that stow neatly in the small cargo hold of Lena's plane. _Lena's plane_ now that she has purchased it from her company.

Of course they stop along the way, snapping pictures in Rome, lunch in France, a chocolate runs in both Switzerland and Belgium. A five hour flight turns into an all day adventure, not that either of them are complaining when it's just them, a pair of wings, and the endless sky ahead of them.

Lena is the one that suggests they _have_ to stop in Amsterdam. Fareeha is the one that walks away with a largest grin on her face and the tackiest 'floral' shirt Lena has ever laid her eyes on.

It's nearing night when they finally touch down at their destination of London, where Lena feels both anxious and excited; fearful and eager, chained to what awaits but all the same…

She wraps her arms around Fareeha, silent and almost on the verge of tears for reasons she can't explain. But she doesn't need to explain, Fareeha doesn't need to understand, all she knows is that Lena needs comfort and that, that she can give.

Fareeha pulls her close enough that Lena can feel the gentle strum of Fareeha's heart pressed up against her ear. The hum of Fareeha's arms is white noise that drowns out the world. She is curious, yes, and Fareeha has her theories but for whatever reason that has Lena feel this way, she trusts that she'll tell her when she is ready.

"We don't have to, Lena." Fareeha whispers and presses a kiss atop Lena's head.

"No, but I want to." She mumbles back.

To want something but not at the same time.

For she knows that every visit, every video call she has had with her father had gone well. They laugh and chat as if they are not hundreds of miles apart or as if Lena could be just a day or two away from death. As if her father isn't in prison for reasons unknown. She knows this feeling is fleeting, that it will pass and melt away into silliness the moment she actually starts talking to him.

And yet it doesn't stop her from feeling this way during the moments leading up to it.

And that is just how things are, perhaps one day they will change.

And when she finally shares this feeling with Fareeha, she finds herself no longer alone at the eternally frustrating phenomenon.

* * *

And it goes off without a hitch.

Like any other visit Lena had scheduled in the past, the guards still remember her and the usual pleasantries are exchanged. They eye Fareeha carefully but allow her in anyways.

By the end of it, Fareeha isn't quite sure what to make of the oddly cheerful old man.

* * *

Fareeha stands outside on the balcony of the small apartment, the sun barely peeking over the skyline to greet her. In one hand is a cup of hot chai, the other a stone smooth from years of her thumb rubbing its surface. Calm, yes, and beautiful with the river Thames right below her.

She smiles around the lip of her mug; the tea smells like her past, the air smells of something new.

The glass door slides open behind her fast enough to slam into it's stopper and make her turn with a start.

"Love! Great Scott, Fareeha, guess what!" Lena rushes out a deep blue, argyle sweater draped over her pajamas. Her body colliding with Fareeha's and making a splash of her tea jump the cup and fall five stories below.

"Good news I would hope." Fareeha says. She sets the cup onto the railing and maneuvers to hold Lena in her arms. The stone is shoved back into her pocket.

"Well good news for us, bad news for the baddies cause," Lena cuts abruptly, eyes narrowing as she comically peers every direction as if war of an eavesdropper. Her voice goes from a joyous shout to a barely contained whisper. "Winston just called me, he wants to recall Overwatch."

Overwatch

Fareeha's mind goes numb and unable to focus on whatever Lena proceeds to ramble about.

 _Overwatch_

Yes, great news for Lena. She remembers how lost Lena seemed to be during the months that followed its dissolution. To have a purpose again, to be able to 'do good work and fight the good fight'; wonderful and Fareeha couldn't be happier for Lena.

But

Overwatch meant all the things Fareeha failed to achieve, all the things her mother tried to keep her away from. Overwatch meant saving people but also leaving other people behind; where the end justified the means, where the greater good was worth more than 'smaller issues'. Overwatch wasn't perfect, no, but it liked to tote itself as such.

And Overwatch meant her mother, her still alive mother. Did Winston know of that fact? Was she included in the recall as well?

"-you too."

"I'm sorry?" Fareeha finally blinks back to reality, not that she would have even been able to keep up with the torrent of words flooding out from Lena's mouth.

"He said he wants you to join us too, love. Was your dream to join Overwatch, yeah?" Lena is beaming like the sun.

 _'_ _Yes_ ' is the automatic response that her mind supplies with the same childhood giddiness she remembers feeling so long ago. But it's always so much more complicated than that. So many factors it all becomes so messy, muddy, murky.

But the excitement of Lena spills over like her tea moments before; Lena so full of energy and cheer and so many layers like layers of flavor that play off of eachother. Spices so strong it burns on the way down and settles as a mound of embers in the pit of her stomach. Warmth of within and out.

Tipping over the edge and splashing down five stories below.

"One step at a time," Fareeha reminds, smiling nonetheless. How could she not? "But I would love to, _Habibti._ "

"Mmm!" The simple noise perfectly embodies the emotions ricocheting off of every corner of Lena's mind. With surprising strength, she pulls Fareeha down for a hasty kiss. "This is gon' be so _bloody_ grand."

There are no details yet as to be expected, but just the notion of it.

Overwatch

With a hand in her pocket, thumb rubbing small circles on her stone, Fareeha looks up to the sky. Endless and illuminated by both the sun and the woman standing beside her. A sky so close. One day soon she'll be able to call herself among the ranks of Overwatch.

* * *

It's not like her to be nervous before a mission.

Lena stares at herself in the bathroom mirror. An image of the past with her leather jacket and accelerator strapped to her chest. It took her years until she was comfortable looking at herself in the mirror.

And now, something akin to pride swells in her chest; prickly but familiar. It falls in between the boundaries of a handful of emotions, leaving the backs of her hands tingly and the calves of her legs restless. It pulls up the corners of her lips and makes it feel as though bony knuckles are digging into the base of her skull.

Alive, here, all of it reminds her of it.

* * *

And it's not like her to be nervous before a mission.

Fareeha stares out of over the expanse of the city much like that of her childhood. She feels the stone between the her fingers, can feel the smooth surface and the indent she has made after all this time worrying. A gift from her mother for when she worries too much, an odd heirloom to be passed down within her family. Fareeha is walking among her childhood heroes, she has _become_ one of her childhood heroes.

And now, something akin to pride swells in her chest; slotting to fill in the ache. It worms its way into the cracks, smooths them over, makes her feel whole and useful. It makes her eyes sharp but heart soft, reminds her that both the man and the mission matter. It makes her eager to feel the air beneath her wings and the wind in her face, to feel like falling but still in control.

To think they believe in her in the same capacity that she believes in them. A family to protect, to love, to belong.

And now more than ever, she needs to feel grounded. Fareeha walks over to the bathroom door, about to knock on it when it swings open startling the both of them.

Lena stares up at Fareeha, Fareeha down at Lena.

Their nervousness manifests into trailing fingertips, locked eyes, and thin pressed lips. Their worries become the closeness they feel pressed up against each other despite the layers of metal and leather. Their fears, their eagerness, their joy and anxiety; everything that they are a burden to share and carry together.

Fareeha bends down, captures warm lips in her own. The winds of elation envelope her heart and ease away to disbelief that indeed, she has made it.

"You ready, love?" Lena asks as if unsure of it herself.

She gently slides a hand onto the side of Fareeha's face. Down to her neck and to where she can feel the thundering of Fareeha's heart and she can feel hand coming to rest on the small of her back. Secure, the feeling of an anchor point to return to whenever she feels lost, where a chain can be more like a string to lead her back home.

"I've been ready since I was 16." Fareeha says as if trying to overstep the memory of once losing the ability of reaching her dream forever.

"Then let's not keep you waiting any longer."

They grab the last of their equipment. A pause before the door. A breath, their hands intertwined.

A moment

A kiss

Of wings and touch.


End file.
